Should've Gone To Bed
by Microsuede Mouse
Summary: The Warthogs are in university, Victoria a long way away - and she hasn't been in touch. Eric stays up too late, drinking alone, and decides to call her. Why won't she just talk to them once in a while? - Erictoria, bg Charlaney. Reviews are golden.


Whoops I did another one. Guess I've been on a roll. Enjoy!

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Eric sat on the flattened, ancient couch in the living room of the house he rented with Charlie, only blocks from the university they both attended. Eric was studying media fundamentals; Charlie comm tech. It was almost one in the morning, but the next day was Saturday, and Eric had no weekend classes.

Charlie and Laney had gone to bed an hour and a half ago. Laney technically lived in residence on a completely different campus, a thirty-minute bus ride away, but she liked to stay at the house when she could. It wasn't like she was wasting money on res; every university she'd applied to had begged her to come. She'd scored a complete scholarship. The school loved her – she was probably going to earn her PhD without ever having to pay a cent.

Eric downed the last drops from his beer bottle and placed it quietly next to the other empty on the side table. He sighed, his eyes focussed somewhere beyond the bottles. He'd turned off the TV a while ago, now he sat in the dark, alone with his thoughts.

That was probably a bad thing.

He wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been sitting with one hand in his pocket, fingers wrapped around his phone, when he finally moved again. He tugged it out, squinting slightly at the bright light as he woke it up.

Pulling up his contact list, he scrolled about halfway down and stopped, staring at a name he hadn't tapped in way too long. Stretched along the length of the old sofa, he contemplated the name until his screen went dark. Then he woke the phone back up and stared some more.

It was her own fault, really. How come she never called? Never emailed. Never texted, Facebooked, Tweeted. Never anything.

Eric wiped a hand down his tired face before touching her name. Her picture came up onscreen. A good shot – he'd gotten her when she wasn't expecting it. She hated her candids, but he thought those were the photos she looks best in. He tapped the green button and put the phone to his ear.

It rang a few times, and the false, electronic bells seemed to resonate through his entire skull. It was a quarter after one in the morning. She wouldn't answer.

"Eric? Hello?"

"Hey, Victoria," he said softly, his eyes searching the scraps of living room floor he could see by the moonlight that filtered through the blinds.

"Eric, it's the middle of the night, what's going on? And why are you talking so quietly? I can barely hear you."

He rubbed absently at the corner of his eye. "Don't want to wake Laney. She's a light sleeper."

"Laney's there?" Victoria asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, she crashes here all the time," he explained. "She shares Charlie's bed."

"Christ, are they- like-" She hesitated for a moment, then cleared her throat. "I mean, um, are they… _sleeping_ together?"

He almost laughed. "God no, Victoria, this is Charlie and Laney we're talking about. They've been dating for two and a half years and their relationship is still more innocent than some I've had that lasted only two weeks." He sighed. "They sleep together only in, like, the literal sense. They snuggle together, Charlie all wrapped up around her. It's actually, to be honest, kind of friggin' adorable."

She chuckled softly. "Never thought I'd hear you say something like that."

"Me neither. I sicken myself."

There was a long pause, an awkward silence made only worse by the distance between them. There was a moment's static fuzz, a flaw in service, and then they both began to speak at the same time.

"Eric-"

"I miss you, Victoria," he blurted. "Why don't you ever visit, call, text…?"

A moment's hesitation. "I'm really busy. School is crazy." She paused again, and Eric swore he could practically see her biting her lip uncomfortably. "It's really late."

"Goddammit, I miss you." He ignored the catch in his throat. "Is it me? What did I do?" He licked his lips.

"How do I make you come back?" he finally asked, more quietly.

Again, she didn't answer immediately. "Eric, are you drunk?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Relax, Victoria. I've had two beers."

"Eric," she said again, and this time she sounded annoyed. Mad, even. "You can't just call me up in the middle of the goddamn night. You can't just make stupid demands and ask how to '_make_ me' come back, because you _can't_ 'make me' come back. I have a life here."

"You had a life here, too," he said bitterly. "You've frigging abandoned it. What are we to you? What am _I_ to you?"

"You're not being fair," Victoria said, angry. "High school doesn't last forever. We always knew that one day we'd all move on with our lives. It's not my fault that the best place for me was not in the same direction as the best place for you."

"Laney stayed," he hissed. "Laney could've gone to any damn school in the country – in the world, maybe. But she came here."

"Laney's sixteen," she snapped back. "She had every reason and right to pick a school closer to her friends and family. And it helped that the one you're all at has a reputation for an _amazing_ science program. The best options for me were further afield."

"There were good options here!" he barked, raising his voice more than he meant to. He swallowed hard and forced himself to relax a bit.

"Eric, I- I'm not having this conversation with you!" Victoria said incredulously. "Grow _up!_ Good night!" Before he could respond again, she had hung up on him.

Fuming, Eric threw his phone down on the far end of the couch. After a minute, he picked it back up, pulled her back onscreen. This time he sent her a text.

_Laney is seventeen. Her birthday was two weeks ago. You missed it. _

A moment's deliberation; then he sent another.

_She cried._

He turned the phone off and dropped it on the floor. Then, a venomous feeling still festering in his stomach, he kicked it across the room. Leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees, he ran his hands through his hair and down his face.

Fuck.

He probably shouldn't have told her Laney had cried. The poor little brunette had tried so hard to put on a good face for him and Charlie; she'd done her best to enjoy the dinner they treated her to. She thought she'd hidden her disappointment. She didn't know that Charlie and Eric had seen her crying.

In fact, he shouldn't have called her at all. What did he expect?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He got up and turned the corner into the kitchen, pulled open the fridge. The rest of that six-pack sat front and centre. Growling, he grabbed it and took it back to the living room.

x

Eric awoke slowly, to the sound of a soft knocking on the door. His first thought was that the TV was still on. But no, that wasn't it. Then his brain said: _Laney_. Wait, no, she never knocks, she uses the doorbell. Except they'd given her a key recently. And, hang on, she's already in the house.

Finally he managed to drag himself off the couch where he'd fallen asleep the night before. Scratching at his bare chest, he hobbled to the door and pulled it open, squinting through the bright sunlight to see who was there.

"Mmmmvictoria?" he mumbled, confused.

She cast her eyes down. "Hi, Eric."

"What are you doing here?"

"I-" She stopped, swallowed, started again. "I was already on the train when you called me last night. I… missed you guys. A lot."

He narrowed his eyes even further. "Come inside," he said eventually, his voice quiet. "Quietly. Charlie and Laney are still in bed. And I'm hung over." He turned and wandered back into the living room. Victoria followed softly, dragging her suitcase into the front hall. She kicked off her shoes and slung her jacket over top of her luggage.

"I thought you only had two."

Eric sat on the couch, staring into blank space ahead of him. Clustered around his feet were six empty bottles, his shirt tossed carelessly across them. "More after we fought."

She stood in the doorway for a moment, uncomfortable, before creeping to the couch and, very carefully, sitting next to him. She didn't look at him; following his example, she just stared into space.

"School is okay," she said quietly. "Keeps me really busy. My grades are good. People are nice, I guess." She hesitated, looking down, letting her hair fall across her face. She seemed ashamed. "But I'm lonely. Nothing is the same without the crew. I miss West Hill. I miss our classmates. I miss What's Up Warthogs." Finally she snuck a glance at his face.

Eric did his best to look impartial. He didn't respond.

"It's- it's not the same doing everything alone," she continued. "I thought… I thought it would be great, going out on my own, being independent. But I hate it. There's no one to turn to when things get hard or overwhelming. I don't have anyone there to support me like you guys always did."

Eric ground his teeth. Now she would say it?

"Eric, I know you're mad at me," she said, beginning to sound almost desperate. "At first I thought I should only get in touch once in a while, so you guys would think I was busy and successful and happy. You'd think I was doing great. Then, as time wore on, and I still wasn't actually feeling very successful or happy or anything, I got ashamed." She rubbed her hands down her face. "First I was ashamed I didn't have anything exciting or wonderful to tell you guys. Then I was ashamed because it had been so long and if I got in touch now I would need to explain. And the longer it went the worse it got, and now I'm so wrapped up in myself that I actually forgot Laney's birthday. I'm the worst person ever."

Eric knew his anger was showing on his face, and he didn't do anything to change that. She deserved it. He refused to look at her.

Victoria hung her head. "I'm average in class. I work for the university paper, but I only work on boring, run-of-the-mill stories that no one looks at anyway. Beyond my classwork, I have nothing to do or care about from one day to the next. No one really gives a shit about me one way or another. I just… don't matter."

He broke. "You matter," he told her emphatically, without hesitation. Immediately he cursed himself; he was looking at her now. She saw his eyes, and he turned back away. He was mad.

And he _was_ mad. He'd done his part here; he'd spoken his piece last night. She had rejected him, she had hung up on him. She was too late.

He hadn't turned away in time to miss the way her eyes began to water. "Eric," she pleaded. "I'm sorry about what I said last night. I was still trying to figure out what to say to you guys, I didn't expect to have to talk to you before this morning. You scared me. I freaked out. You of all people know that when I'm cornered I lash out."

She was too late, she was too late. He wouldn't indulge her. She'd missed her chance.

"I miss the three of you so badly. I miss Laney's crazy inventions and her outrageous vocabulary and her deadly boring math lectures. I miss Charlie's videos and his conspiracy theories and the way he grins when someone says something insulting but he takes it as a compliment. I miss your great leadership and your jokes and your obnoxious pranks."

Eric swallowed. She was too late. She… was definitely too late. He felt his resolve softening, and his expression doing the same. No. He was mad at her.

"Eric…" Victoria wiped stubbornly at her face. "Eric, I miss _you_. I miss you most. I miss your jokes, all of them, even the really terrible ones. Especially the really terrible ones. I miss the way you would spring new, crazy ideas on me at the worst times. I miss yelling at you to brush your teeth or get your hair cut or do your homework, sometimes just because it was fun. I miss the fighting and the laughing and the collaborating and the driving each other crazy, I miss every moment of it. And now every day I wake up and I know I'm not going to spend half my day in the A/V studio with you and I don't even want to get out of bed." She paused and took a deep breath. "I miss you more than I've ever missed anyone in my life," she concluded, her voice very quiet. "Eric, you know what I mean. Don't make me say it."

Finally Eric felt the floodgates open. He turned to her, his expression no longer angry – if anything, he looked sad. "You should've _called_," he told her. "You should've called all the time, and chattered with Laney about school, and asked Charlie how Clyde's doing since they started seeing the monkey behaviourist. You should've called even when you had nothing to say. You should've bored me to tears by telling me all about your classes and your professors and the back of the other students' heads. And I would've bitched and whined and complained and I would've _answered the phone every goddamn day._"

Victoria looked like she wanted to answer, but Eric shook his head. He wasn't finished.

"I thought of you all the time. I wondered. I worried. And I was mad that you never contacted us at all. Not a word. Did you hate me that much?" He bit his lip, staring at her. "I missed you. I missed you even when I was furious with you. And if you'd reached out first, I might not even have said so, because hearing from you would've been so good."

Eric swallowed again and looked around the room for a moment, as if the words to say would be hidden in the cracks in the ceiling. Finally he looked back at her, and she looked as upset as he felt, and selfishly he hoped she was. "I have thought about kissing you every day. Every day since before graduation, and since before you told Teddy to get lost once and for all or you would get a restraining order, and since before you were elected student body president, and since before Charlie and Laney got together, and since before I accidentally told you I loved you while we tried to stop your licorice addiction, and since before Teddy made you VP, and since before we were Erictoria for a day. And Victoria, if I have to make you say you love me, then you don't."

He shook his head, cursing himself for the hot pricking of tears behind his eyes. It was far worse than the pounding headache, or the immense hunger, or the anger he'd felt the night before. The only thing that made it better was watching Victoria's face, watching the tears fall down her cheeks before he let them fall down his own.

For a few minutes they sat in a buzzing silence, staring at each other, crying.

After what felt like days, Victoria opened her mouth. She licked her lips, swallowed, closed her eyes, took a breath. Opened her eyes again. And then, very quietly, she said, "I love you."

Eric gulped hard and watched her silently, afraid to believe her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. "Eric, I love you. I do. I should have said it a long time ago. Years. But it's hard."

He tipped his head to one side. "Wouldn't it have been worth it, though?"

She tried to push her hair out of her face. "I didn't know, though. I was scared. You weren't the kind of person I was supposed to like, and I'm definitely not the kind of person you're supposed to like."

He stared at her for a moment, and then, suddenly, he was leaning close to her face, hovering just above her. "I don't care," he breathed, and he pressed his lips against hers.

He kissed her once, then twice, and then he pulled back long enough to add, "I love you, Victoria Jagger."

They seemed to move in sync, as if this moment had been put off for years until the dance had been perfected. "I love you, Eric Ortiz," she answered softly, pressing back into the side of the sofa as he leaned further across her. He put a hand against the back of the couch, bracing himself as she slid along the cushions until she laid across them beneath him, and he kissed her deeply all the way there.

He was abundantly aware of his shirtlessness as she skimmed her fingers across the muscles of his back and up into his hair. This moment had been far too long coming, and all he wanted was for her to match his state of undress. He brushed a hand up her side, allowing himself to glide over her breast – she gasped; an incredible sound – before tucking his fingers under the edge of her cardigan, beginning to push it off her shoulder.

There was a creak above them, and they paused, listening. A murmur of voices, then Laney's footsteps across the floor. A moment later, Charlie's, considerably heavier. Eric sighed, smiling, and kissed Victoria once more before wrapping his arms under her back and lying carefully on top of her.

"Eric!" she complained, albeit without much conviction. "They can't find us like this!"

"Why not?" he asked with a lazy, contented grin. "You love me, and I love you, and now that we finally have that out of the way, they can find us however."

"You're an ass," she muttered, trying not to smile.

"Yeah, but you love me," he reminded her, his grin widening. He kissed her again.


End file.
